


you are my sweetest downfall

by anneboleyn



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire, One-Sided Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, drinking buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneboleyn/pseuds/anneboleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's hard to ignore that sinking feeling in your gut when you witness the love story between your best friend and the man you're (possibly) in love with. even though you know she deserves only the best, you can't help but feel just a little bit jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are my sweetest downfall

**Author's Note:**

> so. first fanfic on this site. hope y'all enjoy.

**_commence_ **

 

.

 

It’s 11 pm, and Grantaire is sitting at the counter of a bar, drinking himself into oblivion when Éponine suddenly plops herself down on the bar stool beside him. She grabs the bottle he’s holding and presses it up to her lips, taking a long swig. Her dark eyes are broken and defeated, so Grantaire wonders what Marius has done now. He offers her a short smile as she wipes her mouth with her sleeves, and he notices how her makeup runs and her normally silky hair falls messily in tangled waves down her back. She looks terrible—and he tells her so, eliciting a snort from Éponine.

Their friendship is a strange one. He doesn’t know when they started talking, but from the moment he discovered her unrequited love for Marius, they’d fallen into a routine of drinking and crying together. Éponine, the only other member of the group who understood his love for Enjolras, never judged or pitied him, and instead, offered words of condolence. He, in turn, supported her and listened as she cried at his house about her problems; often, they were caused by her dysfunctional family or the ever-oblivious Marius. Though Grantaire couldn’t blame the kind-hearted man, he still felt a twinge of anger flare up in him whenever he spotted Marius with Cosette.

“So what’s wrong?” Grantaire asks, because Éponine never cries in public. “Marius?”

At the mention of the other man’s name, Éponine releases a fresh wave of tears and through sobs, weaves a tale of how the other man snubbed her for the perfect-princess Cosette, then forcing Éponine to listen as he gushed about her. Grantaire nods wisely.

He smoothens out the long brown tresses that tumble down her back and hugs her fiercely. She doesn’t deserve this. She’d gone through so much in her home life, and the last thing she needs is drama in her love life. Éponine deserves a king: a gentle, rich king who makes she lives like a queen.

Grantaire frequently muses while drunk, and more often than enough, his thoughts wandered to Éponine. He asked himself why their relationship never turned sexual, why they hadn’t become fuck buddies rather than drinking buddies, since the thing that drew them together was love anyway. Éponine is a beautiful girl, and she really did look like his ideal woman: dark, vivacious and proud. But the only love he feels for her is a brotherly, protective love, like the love she feels for her siblings. He’d only ever wanted her to be happy, and that was it.

He pats her back systematically as she holds on to his chest, her anger and frustration barely contained. Grantaire’s got his own problems to share, but their importance rapidly diminishes with Éponine’s outburst. He supposes he’ll just tell her later, when she calms down.

“You’re a good friend, R.” Éponine pulls away from the hug, her eyes glassy, and she takes another long swig of his vodka. “So how is it going with Enjolras?”

Grantaire sighs resignedly. “He asked me why I even bothered to come to the meetings if I was going to turn up drunk.” He smiles a little at Éponine’s reaction.

“That rat bastard.” Éponine’s voice is thick with contempt. She likes Enjolras well enough to hold excited conversations with him at their regular meetings, Grantaire muses, but whenever she’s with him, Éponine’s feelings toward the other man aren’t so friendly.

“But it’s the truth.” Grantaire says darkly, his mouth in his drink and fogging up the glass.

She turns away from him to order a drink from the sympathetic-looking bartender, who glances at the two of them with something akin to pity. Grantaire notices and glares at the man defiantly. Éponine catches his look and silently gestures at Grantaire.

_He’s pitying us._

_I know._

_We don’t need pity._

_That should be our motto._

They sit side by side in an amiable silence until the bartender hands Éponine her vodka. She drains it in about a second. Éponine can hold her liquor like nobody’s business, a fact that never fails to impress even Grantaire.

Half an hour and five more glasses of vodka later, they’re both stumbling and slurring their words, with Éponine laughing sloppily, and Grantaire deep in thought. Éponine’s the happy kind of drunk—in contrast to her father, the violent, angry drunk. He’s looking at her fondly when Éponine suddenly stops laughing, but her eyes remain bright and they linger on him for a moment, before she leans in and kisses him with her cherry red lips.

He only registers the feel of her soft lips for a second before his brain explodes, shouting _NO_ at him, and he pushes her away in shock. Every part of him tells himself this is wrong, she isn’t supposed to kiss him, she’s supposed to find someone like Combeferre, who is generous and trustworthy, and kiss them, not him, not the beaten and broken Grantaire.  

Hurt and surprise show on her face, as her features twist into a strange expression, and Grantaire suddenly feels the need to apologize. He cares for her too much to let her destroy herself with the likes of him.

“Save it,” she says, looking sheepishly at his face. “I guess I’ll just die an old maid.”

Éponine doesn’t love him, he knows. He’s her confidant, her closest friend and she’s only using him as a rebound for Marius. But Grantaire is still shocked by her act and suddenly there is tension in the air, while the silence from him only turns more awkward.

He pretends to look at his phone, while Éponine stares straight ahead, sober and fully aware of what she had done. He sneaks a glance at her and sees that she isn’t red with embarrassment (no, but of course, Éponine isn’t the type to mull over such things) but resigned with hopelessness. For a moment, he wants to stay with her and comfort her, but he needs a break from her company. Grantaire has had his fill of comforting tonight, and even though Éponine still needs someone, he must go home and think things over.

“Sorry, Ép.” Grantaire mumbles ruefully. “But I really gotta go. Early class tomorrow morning and all.”

She looks at him suspiciously, because he’s _Grantaire_ and the only time he cares about getting to class on time is when the world is ending. But she lets him go, because she also needs to think things over. Maybe by tomorrow, he’ll be back to normal, and they can go back to drinking into oblivion together.

Waving the bartender over, he watches as she orders another glass of vodka. A prick of worry rises up in him: will she be okay by herself?

But he shrugs it off; she’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.

 

.

**Grantaire:** _hey so did u get home ok last night_

 **Éponine:** _nice of u to ask, but yeah, enjolras drove me home_

 **Grantaire:** _Enjolras??_

 **Éponine:** _IKR._

 

.

 

“Spill.”

Grantaire’s eyes lights up with excitement as he approaches Éponine at the bar counter. He thinks she’s looking fantastic as usual, with meticulously-applied makeup and her brown curls neatly brushed into a ponytail. There’s a cheerful grin on her face, which surprises him because of yesterday’s events, and he tries hard not to ponder whether her happiness was caused by Enjolras.

She sits beside him on their usual spot near the far left side of the bar counter, where they can comfortably hide from any unwanted attention but still see the people passing in and out. It’s nearly four in the afternoon, and Grantaire knows Éponine isn’t planning on staying late into the night with him again because she looks like she has somewhere to go to. A strange, suspicious feeling blooms in his stomach, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s going to Enjolras’ meetings tonight at the Musain.

“Not much to tell,” she replies shortly, but she avoids his hard stare and instead reapplies her lip gloss, trying to distract herself with something menial. “I called all the guys and no one except for Enjy picked up. I asked him for a lift, he drove here, then drove me home. That’s it.”

But the persistent feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away when he tells her about his day, watching as her eyes light up with laughter. The feeling is _definitely_ there when she mentions she’s going to the meeting with the gang instead of hanging out with him (which she never does; no matter how much she loves the boys, she never ditches Grantaire. Until now.) and he tries to shake it off, blaming it on his recent fight with Enjolras and bad nerves.

Besides, Enjolras really isn’t Éponine’s type. Nor is she his type. They’re universally different, yet their personalities are so similar that it’s a wonder how they don’t clash as often as they do. He grudgingly admits that they look good together—Enjolras with his godlike golden beauty, who waved it around carelessly, and Éponine with her dark shadows, a mysterious secret waiting to be discovered.

By the time Éponine leaves, Grantaire is already stone drunk and decides to follow Éponine to their Les Amis meeting at a coffee shop called Café Musain, and see for himself whether anything changed with his Apollo last night.

 

.

 

When Grantaire arrives at the Musain, the meeting is already in full swing, but no one’s listening to Enjolras speaking passionately about rape culture. When he enters, no one notices, so he goes and sits in a corner table with Éponine, Courfeyrac and Jehan, who are in a rather intense discussion about the newest episode of _Vikings_.

“Glad to see you’ve made it,” Courfeyrac says to him with a saucy wink before turning to Éponine and rants to her about his emotions on Lagertha’s miscarriage, to which she and Jehan both agree heartily.

But he doesn’t reply and instead focuses his attention on the great Apollo. He’s still oblivious to the wandering attention span of his friends, speaking with that glint in his eyes that Grantaire loves so much. Grantaire listens to the way words seem to roll off his tongue _that easily,_ and how great it would be if his tongue, not fancy words, was rolling around in Enjolras’ tongue instead. He doesn’t dwell too much on the thought, though, because he’s not exactly the perverted type like everyone expects him to be (that role is reserved for Courf and Courf only) and although he’s not a prude like the object of his affections, he’s not fond of such public displays either.

Once or twice, he catches the golden man glance towards his table, but he’s not sure whether they rest on Éponine, laughing heartily with Jehan and still engrossed in a conversation, or him. He doesn’t hope or wish, because it can’t be for him. It’s never for him.

Over on the other side of Enjolras sits one blonde bombshell named Cosette, whom Grantaire drunkenly remembers to be Marius’ girlfriend. She seems kind and gentle, with that pretty, rosy-girl charm and none of Éponine’s dark, vengeful secrets. He knows at once that she’s the girl for Marius, because as nice as Marius can be, Éponine is too independent and feisty and he would’ve been scared off within a week. He watches as they listen sleepily to Enjolras’ speech. Cosette lies on the brink of sleep in Marius’ comforting arms, looking as serene and beautiful as any couple could be.

His eyes wander again, this time to Combeferre’s table, smack in the middle of the whole group. Combeferre is possibly the only one in the whole group who’s actually listening to Enjolras intently, his head bobbing up and down occasionally, in tune to the other man’s greatest ideas. His black rectangular glasses hides soft blue eyes, so unlike Enjolras’ fierce, electric ones. Grantaire’s sure that out of everyone in the whole gang, Combeferre’s the most likely candidate for Éponine, but they’ve never been interested in each other, which is a shame because Combeferre is so kind-hearted and trustworthy and exactly the kind of man Éponine needs.

 He’s sure he dozes off sometime after that last thought, because the next thing he knows, he’s being jolted awake by Éponine, alerting him to the end of the meeting. Yawning through heavy-lidded eyes, he notices that the café is almost completely save for him, Éponine and Enjolras. Éponine’s beside him as usual, but her bright eyes are wandering and distracted and Grantaire wonders why they’re so clouded. It isn’t like Éponine to hide her emotions to him like that.

He turns to face Enjolras, who sits alone on the table next to them. Golden curls and blue eyes, the man is all Greek god and chiseled features and it takes Grantaire’s breath away just to be in his presence. There’s some form of admiration and lust in his feelings for the other man, but he’s sure it’s love and he won’t give up on Enjolras, just the same as Éponine wouldn’t give up on Marius. Or so he assumes.

Enjolras wraps up whatever he’s writing in that stupid black binder of his and slams it shut in a deafening _thud,_ making Éponine jump up ten feet. Grantaire watches her head swerve up in a moment of surprise, only to meet Enjolras’ intense blue gaze. He watches them hold each other’s gaze, then quickly look away. He tries so, _so_ hard to believe nothing’s happening, and well, he can only hope.

 

.

 

“Who’re you texting?” Grantaire looks over Éponine’s shoulder as they walk across the university campus towards Café Musain. She promptly elbows him in the stomach, and Grantaire is fighting the yelp of pain that threatens to slip out. Éponine may seem fragile, but she packs a good punch. Éponine smirks at his expression and tosses her hair over her shoulders proudly.

“But seriously, who are you texting?” His voice is serious now and Éponine looks at him strangely. It isn’t in him to pry, she knows that, but even Éponine can’t deny the odd change in his demeanor towards her ever since that night at the Musain.

“Enjolras, why?”

He shouldn’t feel as hurt as he does when he hears his—after all, they _are_ just friends, right? Éponine would never do anything with him, not in a million years—but the feelings are there and his face darkens for a fraction of a second before it is replaced with a carefully masked poker face. 

He knows Éponine only wants his happiness because they’re best friends and that’s only what best friends want for each other, right?

“We’re discussing the new _Doctor Who_ episode, dumbass,” Éponine grins and shoves him in the shoulder lightly. Grantaire doesn’t reply but continues on his way stonily.

“Come on, you know there’s nothing going on between us, right?” The grin wipes off her face as she grabs both his shoulders and turns him around to face her. Grantaire’s face is shockingly empty, a blank canvass compared to the one so brightly coloured earlier.

His reply is bitter and angry. “No, I don’t. I didn’t even know Enjolras watched _Doctor Who_. How did you know?”

Éponine's bubbly laugh rings in his ears as she pushes him down onto the park bench beside her. “What, that? We’ve just gotten closer, I guess. It’s not important.”

Grantaire registers her words sulkily, and the awful jealous feeling that’s been blooming in his chest burns fiercely. _Closer? They’ve almost never talked to each other alone before,_ he thinks, glowering at the passersby under his lashes.

“Come on, R,” Éponine pleads. “I wouldn’t betray you. You of all people should know that.”

He looks at her in an astonished expression, because he’s just realized what an _idiot_ he’s been and how alone she must’ve been feeling, what with Marius and Cosette and everything. He realizes that telling him stories while they’re both hammered isn’t enough, she needs someone who can actually listen to her rant, and give her useful advice and pick up her broken pieces afterwards. Although Enjolras isn’t a likely candidate, he’s whom she chose and that’s good enough for Grantaire, even though his heart burns.

 

.

**Éponine:** _so today enjolras was like ‘omfg marius is an idiot’ then marius walked STRAIGHT PAST US and idk but I think he heard us????_

 **Grantaire:** _idk ep why don’t u ask our dear apollo that_

 **Éponine:** _R…no offense, but what the hell??_

 **Grantaire:** _this is the fifth time today you’ve texted me today about enjolras and you’re asking what’s wrong with ME?!_

 

.

 

The day starts out simply enough: Grantaire attends (some) of his classes in the morning, heads over to the Musain for lunch and some drinks, then hangs out with the gang until he remembers the shitload of homework piled for the next day. Returning home, he finishes his homework—because his teacher threatened him on the penalty of expulsion if he didn’t work harder—until it’s late and he texts Éponine, asking her if she plans on joining him for another drinking sesh at their usual bar. She doesn’t reply, so he takes that as a yes.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s down at the pub and she pulls up next to him, makeup running and tears brimming. He takes one look at her face, hugs her tightly and doesn’t let go for a full minute until he hears catcalls and wolf-whistles coming throughout the bar. He lets go of her, smiles, and lets her choke out her story (hint: it’s eerily similar to that of last week’s) before ordering a glass of vodka for her.

Her tale includes another Marius saga, featuring Cosette and how her heart breaks, tears and wears. Grantaire listens carefully, like he always has, and tries harder to be gentler with her. He knows she’s been hanging around Enjolras a lot ever since last week’s episode so in his own way, he wants to top the other man (and possibly impress him, but he won’t admit that).

He’s got stories of his own to tell, starring Enjolras and how he snubs his affection for him so frequently. One thing he can’t manage to figure out is how Éponine managed to break the marble man’s suit of armor—he’s seen them talk and Enjolras looks perfectly at ease, too happy, even. With him Enjolras is friendly and nice, like any friend should be, but it just isn’t enough for Grantaire. He wants—no, _needs—_ his love and until he figures out how he’s going to get it, he’ll sit and drink.

But Éponine doesn’t seem as interested in his Enjolras stories as she usually does. In fact, she stiffens when he speaks of Enjolras, and thankfully, Grantaire is too drunk to notice.

It isn’t until Éponine mentions that she spent a night over at Enjolras that everything falls apart. Grantaire’s eyes widen scornfully as he asks her the reason, and Éponine cheerily replies that she was helping him with a math assignment and they ended up watching old _Criminal Minds_ episodes (season one’s the best, Enjolras said apparently) together until it was too late for Éponine to return home.

One known fact around their group is that Éponine is strangely good at math, even though she’s majoring in Psychology and doesn’t really like math all that much. As it turns out, Grantaire finds that a lot can happen in a week, because Éponine reveals that she’s been hired by Enjolras as a math tutor.

Éponine laughs it off and with a flick of her hair, casually responds to Grantaire’s pained expression with humor, stating that they’re only friends, and only friends will they ever be. But even in the dim of the pub and in his drunkenness, Grantaire notices the slight flush in her cheeks and the bright glow in her eyes, which he knows can’t be from the tequila she’s drinking.

Grantaire snorts and continues drinking, but his simple day has been ruined, he thinks.

 

.

 

The next couple of weeks present themselves to be difficult, tiring, but to Grantaire’s delight, not much happens with Éponine and Enjolras’ developing relationship. He’ll admit that he keeps close tabs on them, almost to the point of stalking, but hey, what else can one do for love?

They’re still better friends than ever before, and Grantaire often wonders exactly what happened the night he ditched her at the pub. If it went like Éponine had said, just a conversation, then, nothing more, nothing less. But from what he suspected, Grantaire has more than reason to believe that it wasn’t just a conversation.

He watches them, often. They talk more during the meetings at Café Musain to his dismay. He notices the way Enjolras’ eyes light up whenever she speaks to him first, his jaw visibly unclenched after a hard day’s work. Grantaire’s not oblivious at all, and neither is the rest of the group. Soon, they’re all placing bets on when they’ll get together, and who’ll make the first move. It sickens Grantaire to the bone, but he’s defeated.

He’s at the Musain tonight. It’s a sombre, rainy day and no one is in the mood for talking. Feuilly, Bahorel and Combeferre are huddled together in a corner; discussing philosophy or whatever. Musichetta sits beside Éponine and Jehan, her boys gone from her side for once. Courfeyrac is snuggled beside him, for which he is thankful, because he’s his favourite Ami behind Enjolras and Éponine. The god himself, the great Apollo, is chatting animatedly with Éponine, his blue eyes shining with excitement and a strange passion.

This odd behaviour in Enjolras doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. Known by the others as a marble statue, it really isn’t normal to see Enjolras talking excitedly to someone about something other than social justice. But there he is, nevertheless, talking away to Éponine, who seems to be holding her side of the conversation pretty well. Musichetta and Jehan are both looking at the couple rather fondly, as though they were nothing but two little kittens playing together in a field of grass.

Marius and Cosette, who usually sit beside each other, are missing from each other’s company today. Marius is gone, studying for some exam of the sort, and Cosette places herself in between Courfeyrac and Grantaire on a couch that faces Éponine and Enjolras. Cosette’s long blonde hair is silky and shiny and Grantaire can’t believe that Éponine hates this girl with such a passion because she is so, _so_ nice to him when she asks him how he’s doing, when referring to Éponine’s loud, fast-paced conversation with the object of his love.

He signals back to her that he’s totally fine, and she smiles kindly to him. There’s no hint of condescension in this smile, and Grantaire feels instantly soothed. _Damn,_ he thinks, _she’s even better than Éponine._

Soon enough, Éponine and Enjolras are so engaged in debate that they don’t notice the attention of everyone else on them. Bahorel, Feuilly and Combeferre stare at them and murmur amongst themselves, it’s not surprise for what’s happening to their leader, but the shock that it’s Éponine. Bahorel steals a wink at Enjolras when he momentarily makes eye contact, and Enjolras knits his brows together in confusion, but says nothing.

It’s an unspoken rule that no one interrupts their conversation lest they want the rest of the gang’s wrath upon them, because for once, just this once, the marble man seems to have finally cracked.

Then it descends into madness: Éponine and Enjolras are screaming at each other in an impossible fury. Everyone sneaks glances at each other in absolute shock. Only Grantaire remains calm.

Except that he isn’t calm, that’s the thing. He feels like he’s going to throw up because his worst nightmare is about to come true; the story of Éponine and Enjolras is about to be realised, and the worst part? There’s nothing he can do, but stand and watch.

Finally, someone, possibly Courfeyrac, shouts out to the furious couple, “JUST KISS ALREADY!”

Then silence.

Éponine and Enjolras only glare at each other, Éponine’s hair disheveled but still unbelievably beautiful, and Enjolras looking unhinged and sweaty. It feels like hours to Grantaire before someone finally makes a move, and he can’t believe his eyes that it’s Enjolras placing a soft kiss on Éponine’s cherry red lips.

His chest suddenly felt constricted, his breathing hitched, and the remainder of Grantaire’s heart ebbed away into the darkness. There are cheers and shouts of _I told you so!_ from the rest of the gang, but Grantaire’s face falls so fast that he can feel Cosette’s warm arms wrap around his shoulders quickly.

Choking away a dry sob, no one except Cosette and Éponine notice him leaving.

In fact, he leaves so quickly that he doesn’t hear Éponine’s shout of “wait!” to him as she pushes Enjolras aside and runs out of the café to look for him.

 

.

**Éponine:** _I’m sorry, R. I’m so, so sorry. You deserve a better best friend._

 **Grantaire:** _It’s not your fault. Don’t worry._

 **Éponine:** _Really?_

 **Grantaire:** _I was there, Ep. I saw what happened. He kissed you, you left and came after me. Thanks for that, I guess. So what happens now?_

 **Éponine:** _I dont know._

 

.

 

Weeks pass. The incident goes by rather quickly throughout the group. Though much to everyone’s confusion, Éponine and Enjolras are _not_ together and probably won’t ever be, at least according to Éponine. Enjolras admits that he was pressured into it and recluses into his old, statuesque ways.

 Grantaire is relieved, but at the same time, dismayed, because now he knows that Enjolras is bitter over someone and will probably never choose him now. Éponine takes to drinking more and more, only with Bahorel, Bousset and Courfeyrac and not him. She still confides with him, sure, but he still doesn’t understand why he’s no longer her drinking buddy. To him, it’s blindingly obvious that she has no interest in Enjolras.

But it hurts him to watch Enjolras watching her, because he knows Enjolras is lying about the night he kissed her. He catches his wandering eyes, wandering to her, when he’s speaking at the Musain. It pains him, oh how it pains him.

Sometimes, he wonders if the now-elusive Éponine has been avoiding him. It’s a suspicion worth confirming, because Éponine no longer feels like his best friend. Instead, she has grown cold and distant to him; their friendship fragilely hangs by a thread of hope from him. When she speaks to him, she sounds normal, but her eyes are far away and Grantaire knows that something is wrong.

One day, he finally catches her at their bar alone after a week of silence. He confronts her; he knows nothing good can come from that, because Éponine is reclusive and bitingly vicious when she wants to be. But if he wants to know what’s going on with her, this is the only way.

She looks decent, wearing a blue sweater and heavy eyeliner. Her tan skin shines smoothly and her brown hair flowing healthily. On the surface, she looks like any normal girl.

But she isn’t, and only Grantaire can see it. It’s in her eyes—a heavily conflicted look, a look of deep stress and frustration that has not yet taken toll on her. He approaches her from the back and sits down beside her, carefully observing her face. She’s got a fake smile plastered on, and it doesn’t fool him.

“So how’s it going?” he asks, almost sarcastically. “Finished ignoring me yet, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Éponine glares at him under kohl-lined eyes, and he almost believes that they’re filled with some sort of desperation. “I can’t tell you.”

Her response shocks him, and for good reason. He’s known her for so long, and they’ve told each other so much. How strange it is that she can’t tell him what’s on her mind.

She shifts her body on the stool uncomfortably, her chunky heels clinking together. “You won’t understand.”

He’s more or less slightly annoyed at her, but doesn’t push it any further. If anything, she’ll close back on him and risk losing their friendship all together. Grantaire downs a shot of tequila and stares at the crowd of people at the bar on a Saturday night.

Éponine surprises him by speaking up, but it’s her question that really shocks him. “Do you love him, R?”

Grantaire nearly spits out a mouthful of alcohol. Out of all the questions she asks, this is the one that truly gets to him. But _Enjolras?_

The corners of her mouth quirk up when she sees his expression. “I just need to know if…whatever feelings you have for him, that it’s real. Not just a silly crush or anything.”

Grantaire is really shocked this time, because he doesn’t know where she’s going with this and frankly, it’s freaking him out.

But does he love Enjolras? It’s true, he’s been wildly attracted to the godly man ever since they met, and his attraction and adoration has only grown ever since, but is it love? Grantaire likes to believe that one day, Enjolras will finally see him for who he is, and they’ll start dating or fucking or whatever they feel like. He hasn’t even considered anything beyond that.

Over the din of people, Grantaire sees Éponine’s sad little smile, waiting expectantly for an answer. Then thoughts race quickly in his mind: the way Éponine’s eyes light up when she sees Enjolras coming towards her, the way her voice changes into a pitch higher when she’s talking to him, and the way she starts dressing more carefully, just for him. He realizes now—she loves Enjolras. Whatever the other man’s done, he made her forget about Marius and her woes. Something that Grantaire could never accomplish, Enjolras did.

He internally laughs that his life has become nothing more than a good young adult love-triangle. He’s sure Éponine would agree and laugh along with him; oh, how he misses her tinkling laugh!

Grantaire swallows hard, though, because now he’s realized just how stuck in the situation they’re in. He’s in waist-deep and he can’t get out. Is he, or is he not, willing to give Enjolras up?

But when he looks to Éponine and her sad, sad life, he thinks about all the sacrifices that she’s made for him (comforting him, defending him from the others, generally being a great friend and all to him) and for her brother Gavroche, he decides that she deserves him more than he does.

“No,” Grantaire answers and his mouth twitches upward for a fraction of a second.

“You don’t have to say that for my expense.”

“I’m not.”

 

.

 

Their relationship only improves after that, after Éponine decides that he’s telling the truth about his love. She confesses to him days later that she’s in love with Enjolras, and Grantaire only hugs her tightly and wishes her good luck whilst ignoring the horrible knot in the pit of his stomach. He forces himself to feel neutral, and suddenly he understands how Éponine felt with Cosette and Marius. It’s a horrible thing, this unrequited love business.

Enjolras notices the change, too. It’s a great shock to Grantaire one day when the other man knocks on his door, his golden curls in a mess and blue eyes all frazzled.

“I need your help,” is all he says, and Grantaire doesn’t hesitate to let him in.

Grantaire only admits to himself how badly he wants to feel Enjolras’ soft lips on his own, but he pushes that down from his brain and instead focuses on the man sitting on his blue, paint-splattered couch.

Enjolras gives him the specifics: he’s in love with Éponine, and doesn’t know what to do. He says he’s consulted Combeferre and Courfeyrac, both of whom confirmed his feelings for him. But Grantaire’s the most important piece; he’s the closest to _her_ and the only one who can really help him with her.

Grantaire sits with his hands on his lap and listens as intently as he could, even though the attention is mostly on Enjolras’ mesmerizing voice and the way his clothes stick to his body and the intoxicating smell of cologne that Courfeyrac must’ve forced on him.

“Just ask her out,” is how he responds, nonchalantly. (Though he’s anything but nonchalant.)

Enjolras nods, and seems to take his advice rather seriously although he’s said almost nothing at all. After instructing him on Éponine’s odd behaviour for ten more minutes, Enjolras is ushered out the door on the pretense that Grantaire is “tired”. Really, he’s just heartsick and in pain.

Grantaire feels like he should blame Éponine. But he can’t, because it’s not her fault. He daren’t destroy their relationship with something like this. He can’t. Even though it devastates him to sacrifice Enjolras to Éponine, he doesn’t care anymore. Éponine deserves him more than he does, anyway.

He feels like collapsing on the carpet and sobbing into his cat, but he can’t get the tears out. Instead, he sees his empty canvass and his set of paints. He hobbles over to his art room, where he takes out all his pain onto the white, blank page. With every splash of paint, he feels his tension releasing, and pretty soon, the white page isn’t so white anymore and everything else is splattered in a multitude of colours.

It’s beautiful, he notes, when he’s finished, collapsed on the newspapered floor of his self-installed art room. He paints a blood-spatter covered Enjolras standing stoic and proud in front of a white canvass, but instead of a carefully drawn out frame, it’s rough and edgy and exactly the way he likes it. Just by looking at the finished painting, his face contorts into an empty smile and bitterly reflects that his professor will love it.

After staring at it for a long time, he crumples down to the ground in low, dry sobs, trying to block out this god damn awful world from his head.

.

 **Éponine:** _he asked me out today. I said yes._

 **Grantaire:** _I heard._

 **Éponine:** _Are you really okay with that?_

 **Grantaire:** _Sure._

 **Éponine:** _Come on, don’t lie to me._

 **Grantaire:** _I’m really happy for you, okay?_

 **Éponine:** _But I betrayed you._

 **Grantaire:** _u wanna know the truth? I told him to ask you out, okay? Just let me wallow in self pity._

_._

Éponine’s head is on his lap, and they’re both lying on the couch watching an old episode of _Game of Thrones._ Grantaire’s passing the booze to her, and she accepts it for his behalf even though she doesn’t really want to drink right now. Éponine absentmindedly twists a strand of hair around her finger as she listens to Grantaire rant about the show, and he can’t help thinking that he likes it this way.

So maybe Enjolras doesn’t love him. And maybe that’s okay.

Éponine’s already plotting to set him up with her old friend, Montparnasse, who apparently is really hot and totally Grantaire’s type.

“He’s really into the artsy type,” she winks at him cheekily. Grantaire snorts because this Montparnasse already sounds too good to be true.

And maybe they’ll fall in love. Who knows?

Grantaire sighs in contentment and hears Éponine recounting the reasons why she loves him for letting her take Enjolras. He laughs and tells her it’s no problem, because this Montparnasse guy is sounding much better than Enjolras already, and he hasn’t even _seen_ him yet.

“But still,” she says, looking up into his face with earnest eyes. “I feel so terrible.”

He laughs. “Don’t. That part of my life is over now. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you.”

It’s true, he’s moving on. It’s a slow struggle, and sometimes his brain does fry up when he sees Enjolras speaking so passionately, but it’s getting better. He’s finding better outlets—into his art, his homework (Grantaire’s professors are astonished at the sudden improvement) and his social life.

“I do,” Éponine’s eyes are misty with emotion. “I really do love him, R. It’s such a different feeling from when I was with Marius. I guess…I was in love with the _idea_ of Marius, you know? The perfect guy, the Prince Charming-type man who’d sweep me off my feet. Well, Enjolras isn’t like that—he’s better. He’s imperfect, he’s an awkward boyfriend, but I love that about him.”

Grantaire nods understandingly. He’s so happy that Éponine’s finally found her happy ending.

Éponine suddenly laughs. “I sound just like Cosette.”

Éponine’s relationship with Cosette has changed so much after she began dating Enjolras. She’s much kinder to the other girl, and they’d become fast friends as the only girls in the gang. Éponine sometimes runs to Grantaire and tells him all about her and Cosette’s latest adventures and gossips, and Grantaire muses that he’d always known, even earlier on, that Éponine and Cosette would become friends. It was just one of those predestined things.

One thing, though. He’s just glad that her relationship with Enjolras hasn’t changed her friendship with him. Things are back where they used to be, even if Éponine doesn’t drink much with him anymore (she doesn’t need to) and she’s got a boyfriend now. Grantaire’s personality is sunnier and lighter than it’s been in a long time, because _she’s_ happy.

And in this moment, with Éponine humming the theme to _Game of Thrones,_ the soft glow of the morning sun shining down on his face, he can’t help but feel free. Free from his binding love for Enjolras. He’s happy.

.

**_fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ an-neboleyn.tumblr.com


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